The Grapes in Fruit Salad
by Maaya
Summary: Drabble sized slices of life. Various ratings, genres and spoilers.


**Warnings/Genres:** Mostly gen, some yaoi and het. Spoilers for the whole series, _including the end_. Ratings varying between G and R. Angst, drama, crack, humour, romance, slice-of-life, etc.

**Notes:** I used to write FmA drabbles for the lj community fma100, but since the community was deleted, all the drabbles I had stored there were as well. I thought it'd be good to post them here instead, for safe-keeping, and hopefully some of you will enjoy them in the meantime.

All drabbles, first one excluded, are exactly 100 words. :)

----

**That Evening**

(#1: Childhood/Youth)

Nina rubbed her arm across her nose - she wasn't crying, mind, merely feeling lonely – and pitied herself immensely. Ed-brother, Al-brother were both all gone, (they _would_ come to visit like they had promised, right?) and daddy had been working they whole afternoon. He hadn't even given her any food and she was _hungry_.

Nina hadn't wanted to disturb daddy, so she had attempted to make sandwiches by herself. But the bread had been on the top shelf, when she stood on the chair and tried to reach for it, she'd somehow bumped into the sugar bowl and it hit the floor with a loud crash.

The kitchen was a mess now. Daddy would be sad.

She'd sought refuge, found it in Alexander's soft fur and calm understanding. She stayed there for a long time, until her daddy found her.

"Nina," he said, and his voice sounded strange. "Do you want to help daddy with an experiment?"

She stood up quickly, happy to hear someone's voice again. "Nina would like to help!"

"Ah, that's nice." Daddy paused. "Can you bring Alexander, too?"

"Yes!" Nina grabbed a fistful of Alexander's fuzz and dragged the dog with her. She sang, "Helping daddy, helping daddy…"

----

**Went Away **

(#2: Wishes)

Gracia realized early on that she can't spend the rest of her life mourning. If anything, it won't be fair to her daughter. She doesn't want Alicia to grow up in a home with tears of the past.

Lack of presence can sometimes feel emptier than presence can feel crowded. She wakes in an empty bed, wrings her hands when she makes breakfast for two instead of three. She throws away the package with porridge oats, only Maes had ever liked porridge.

Nevertheless, her smile is occasionally strained.

Gracia can still look at Maes' photos on the wall and _long_.

----

**Principles**

(#3: Loss)

First come, first served. To get something, you need to be the first one to express interest. When Havoc had been young, he'd believed that to be the truth of the world.

That's why he had always been the first one to compliment a girl's looks, the first one to kiss her behind the school building, the first one to buy her chocolate on Valentine's Day. He waited, and trusted his principle.

Then Mustang came.

This world isn't perfect. There isn't a single principle that can explain everything.

No matter how many times Havoc was first, Mustang was always served.

----

**Family**

(#4: Phobia)

Hohenheim wasn't father-material, was afraid of his sons, preferred to love them at distance. But he couldn't leave Edward without home.

They spent their mornings with silence, books and poor breakfast. Burned toast-edges were thrown away without complaint.

They spent their evenings with books and the radio on. Edward habitually stole the couch-corner nearest the window; he could sit for hours and stare outside.

They slept in the same room, on the bed and the couch, falling asleep to each others' breaths.

The landlady called them bachelors, made it her duty to look after them.

Hohenheim shrugged and smiled self-mockingly.

----

**In the Morning**

(#4: Phobia/Fear)

Edward _knew_ there was something wrong the moment he saw the Colonel, naked, in bed beside him. The Fullmetal Alchemist squeaked and pulled the sheets around his own undressed body.

"Get out of my bed," he attempted shakily.

Admittedly, Mustang deserved brownie-points for not outright laughing right there, right then. His words, however, were just a bit too bland to be truthful.

"I believe," he deadpanned, "that this is my bed."

Crap.

Edward shifted, jumped when his nude behind touched something warm. And…muscular.

Armstrong sparkled, in all his naked glory. "Edward-kun, you're awake!"

What Edward felt, then, was pure fear.

----

**Argument**

( #5: Illness/Pain)

"Brother, you need to blow your nose."

"Shut up Al." Edward wiped his nose with his sleeve, grimaced at the snot on the black fabric. A few moments later, he was once again focused on his book.

"Brother, your eyes are puffy."

"Shut _up_, Al," Edward snarled impatiently. "I need to concentrate but with this headache..?"

"Brother," Al said stubbornly. "You have a cold. Go to bed."

"Damn--fine!" Edward slammed his book shut and stomped to the bathroom, coughing.

"I'll just stay here and read, then." Al called after him, then muttered. "I mean, _I_ won't get sick, anyway."

----

**Periodical Codes**

(#5 - Illness/Pain)

None of Mustang's subordinates have tried their hands at alchemy. Having the Flame Alchemist in the group is enough, they say, and are admittedly not interested in the science. Being an earthly bunch; they prefer concrete equipment.

However, like any self-respecting alchemist, they use codes.

The entire office has the days marked in their calendars. Coded, naturally, and the systems vary. For instance, Havoc always doodles angry (gun-wielding) faces. Mustang makes notes to bring Hawkeye chocolate.

They are very aware of Hawkeye's trouble with cramps, those days, every month.

And they know what danger comes with an armed, menstruating, woman.

----

**Constant**

(#6: Disguise/Costumes)

Roy puts it on every morning, before work.

The process must take time, he wonders wryly if it is completed between the washing-face part and the brushing-teeth one, or during the short time it takes him to open the door and exit the bathroom. It goes automatically now. Perhaps it's there even when he wakes up. He wonders if he sleeps with it. Only one person can confirm.

Riza says he does; stroking his cheek with a melancholy smile, she is the only one who will ever know. That it is his facade, and that is has become his real.

----

**Looking For**

( #7: Colours)

Roy wonders when red wine became so fascinating.

He associates, momentarily strays into the subject of blood, death. But to him, death is black, burned, stir-fried, fucking _broiled_, not red.

He considers the people he knows, can only come up with one, Fullmetal. Roy laughs at the idea.

He thinks about his flames, but fire isn't red as much as...flame-coloured.

No, there is no reason for him to sit at night with a bottle of red. There is no reason for him to stare at a half-empty glass, wondering why the colour in midnight is so captivating.

But he does.

----

**Ah! Busted! **

(#8: Food)

Archer was picking out tomatoes at the greengrocer's.

Kimbley raised an eyebrow. There was something utterly...wrong with that picture.

The colonel raked his eyes over the options a couple of times, let his hands hover over the vegetables, chose one, placed it gently in his plastic bag. The procedure was repeated. Kimbley watched in disbelief. Tomatoes...wouldn't make much of a bomb. But the explosion would be pretty. Red, like blood. Fun. Perhaps he could use one of the bypassing costumers?

He smirked as he considered it.

Archer _looked_ at him. "No killing people. We're here to buy food."

Kimbley sighed.

----

**Sitting Around**

(#9: Closed Doors)

Hawkeye isn't surprised. The sight before her is usual enough.

She steps into the office and closes the door.

Havoc notices her first. He sits up straight from the game of poker, taking the toothpick out of his mouth. His discreet cough alerts the other playe--soldiers and they clean up the table, casting wary looks at Hawkeye.

"Hey, first lieutenant," Havoc greets, as if playing games during working-hours was something he had never even imagined. His salute is—almost—proper.

"Hello," Hawkeye sighs.

She hopes it won't ever be revealed to the public how the military do their duties.

----

**First Lines**

(#10: The Written Word)

The paper before her is messy, both because of smears of machine-oil from unwashed hands and ink-lines aggressively crossing letters, making them unreadable. The words at the top of the page had said _Dear Edward_, the second line _Dear Edward and Alphonse_ and the third a bold _Hey_. Then she decided to skip the greeting.

An hour after making that decision, she is still staring helplessly at the paper.

Occasionally, she'll write a word. It's crossed out before the last letter is formed.

Winry has been told that the first line of a letter is the worst.

She agrees whole-heartedly.

----

**Instant**

(#11: Music)

Alphonse sighed appreciatively as tones found their way out of an open door to dance merrily around the brothers. They came from a piano, the real thing undoubtedly; the tones carried nothing of a radio's indistinct static.

"Listen, brother," he breathed.

"Huh?" Edward stopped. "What?"

Alphonse nodded towards the door, to a coffee shop he realized. "Music."

Edward didn't say anything; he listened with a face that reminded of someone watching paint dry. "What?" he repeated after a minute, impatiently.

"It's nice."

"I guess." Edward resumed his pace. "Come on. We'll miss the train."

Alphonse sighed and followed his brother.

----

**It's Parental Love!**

(#12: Gifts)

Edward had to admit, he felt like being a bastard over the whole thing. He probably would have, hadn't he been afraid to ruin the Christmas mood.

Neither of the boys had thought much about Christmas, somehow having doubted that Izumi and her husband even celebrated it. They'd been surprised when their teacher had announced they'd take a break to celebrate.

Edward looked at his gift, then glanced towards Izumi. Beside him, Al was studying the book _he'd_ received, with interest.

"What?" Izumi grumbled through the large Christmas-cigar.

Edward decided not to comment the huge butcher's knife she'd given him.

----

**Pace Forth**

(#13 - Next Year)

Their breaths were mixing together, visibly thanks to the cold. Beside him Izumi stirred and shook her head, as if to clear it from whatever thoughts she'd had.

Seig resisted his urge to put an arm around her; that was a gesture saved for romantic moments. No matter how much it hurt him to see her in this mood, thoughtful, serious, deadly calm; he knew not to try and reassure her.

Izumi's pale hand rested on her stomach. "A new year, huh," she said, tone not-quite-disgusted. "I'd say this one'll be my last."

Seig looked at her and said nothing.

----

**Are Gone**

(#17: Kill)

Den doesn't come to greet them anymore; the dog had died a long time ago.

Edward finds it lonely to come back and not be greeted by Den cheerfully wagging its tail. One rarely feels as appreciated as with a dog that likes you.

"Oh," Edward had said when Winry had first told them the dog was dead. "Oh."

And now, Edward and Alphonse sit beside the bed as Pinako slowly closes her eyes one last time. Winry is crying, Edward notices while he himself feels strangely blank.

Without Den and without Granny, Riesensburg won't feel like a home anymore.

----

**Sweet Thoughts**

(#18: Animals)

Alicia had said she wanted a pet.

Sure, she loved the teddy-bear she had received from Ed-brother. Unwrapping the gift from Uncle Roy revealed a lovely cute stuffed dragon that even blew out a small little stuffed fire from its mouth.

Alicia suspected both Ed-brother and Uncle Roy were too afraid of facing Mom's anger if they gave her a real animal. Either that, or perhaps grown-ups were naturally dense.

So when Al-brother handed her a box with air-holes and a small "meow" came from the inside, she squealed and hugged him.

Alicia knew she could always trust her Al-brother.

----

**Things Past**

(#19: The Next Generation)

Motherhood isn't hard for Hawkeye. She slipped into the role when she gave birth to a healthy daughter. Her motherly side, practiced on Edward and Alphonse, was suddenly turned on at full force.

While being a strict mother, she is also a loving one. She is competent; tackles every incident at home gracefully. She does the birds-and-the-bees talk stoically, handles the begging for sweets like nobody's business.

Only once has Hawkeye not completely managed a situation.

Her daughter is seven, old enough to know what _military_ is, and asks, "Mom, have you killed people?"

Hawkeye's heart aches. She can't reply.

----

**Armstrong is Love**

(#20: Love)

When Armstrong loves, he does so fiercely. No matter what his beloved ones think.

He loves Edward and Alphonse for their pure hearts and admirable strength. They're young, yet so lost. They need someone to love them and Armstrong is proud to be one of those to take on that responsibility.

He loves and admires Roy Mustang because the colonel is kind and trustworthy. He loves Hawkeye and her loyalty. He loves his own family. He loves Sheska, Havoc and Farman. He can't help it. It's addicting, like a drug.

Armstrong surrounds himself with it because he loves to love.

----

**Sweet**

(#21: Smut)

Edward woke up to a sweet scent he knew he wasn't used to in bedrooms. After a moment of hazy thoughts and some curiosity, he woke up enough to realize it wasn't only the smell that was unusual; there was something strange with his chest. Or rather, something strange _on_ his chest. He moved his hand to check.

It came away...sticky.

Edward opened his eyes.

"Uhh, Breda," he said hesitantly. "Why is there honey on my chest?"

Breda looked up from licking Edward's stomach clean. He shrugged. "Food-sex, boss."

Edward sighed, leaned back and decided to just enjoy the ride.

----

**Days Off**

(#22: Rain)

Even Edward and Alphonse can sometimes let a day pass without looking too hard for clues. Admittedly, those days are often calmer because of sickness, or injury. But there are also a few that aren't quite as unpleasant.

Edward hates rain. He hates it with a passion, despises becoming wet, will mutter if it happens; his hair ruffles strangely if wet and it takes _years _to comb out, dammit!

There is also a more important problem with rain; Alphonse's body rusts.

That's why, during rainy days, the brothers are found huddling in their dorm.

Unexpected days off, but not unpleasant.

----

**Trip**

(#23: Crack Pairings)

Roy had only met her once before and she had been upset, shouted at him, outright insulted him. She had just taken care of what was left of Edward after the transmutation, had faced the fact the only thing remained of Alphonse was his soul.

She hated the military and somehow she seemed to _know_ that he was the one who had done that. Killed _them_.

Roy knew he could refuse, but didn't manage to. He owed her more than he could give. He told her that.

Pinako only had one request, a self-mocking one. She wanted to fuck him.

----

**Only the Good**

(#24: Travel)

_Was later turned into a longer fic with the same name, also posted on this site. _

What is hardest to leave is their daughter. Sara knows that Riesenburg will not change; never has during her lifetime. The only thing that changes in Riesenburg is the people. (And that just barely, Markus tells her with a laugh.)

Sara doesn't know how long this war will be fought in and she hates the thought that Winry, her _daughter_, might change while she is gone, treating the injured.

Winry is showing signs to develop a temper similar to Sara's own. Her eyes are like Markus'.

Sara tells Winry, mother is going on a trip. She will be back soon.

----

**Incoherency**

(# 25: Alcohol)

Hawkeye is a terribly gloomy drunk, if drunk at all. Roy swears he cannot tell her drunk self apart from her sober, a sad notion. _He'd_ been drunk when he said it, Hawkeye doubts he even realizes how depressing that is to hear. _Especially_ if you think of yourself as a gloomy drunk.

She does follow Roy out to drink sometimes, just a thing between friends. Someone has to help him keep standing, is he would drink too much or just do something stupid.

She is not needed for that very often, but it feels nice to have a reason.

----

**Haze**

(#33: Summer)

Summer is supposedly the time of the year when one can spend time outside--only it never ends up that way. Roy is sitting in the same chair, before the same desk, using the same pencil as usual for paperwork.

If only the sun—through the window--could shine a little less bright, feel a little less warm against his back--

Another pile of papers is dumped onto his desk with a low, intimidating thud.

Roy sighs, meets Hawkeye almost pitying eyes, and returns to work.

It's a slight comfort to know he's not alone in his suffering, at least.

----

Thank you for reading! Hope you liked, despite the messy mix.


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